


Build Walls for Miles Around

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Confessions, Curses, Gen, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, I think that's all the important tags, Implied Sexual Content, Incest, Loki does not deal well with the truth, Loki's a goddamn mess, M/M, Pre-Slash, Protective Thor, Resolved Sexual Tension, Truth Spells, awkwards about this fic, but not really any spoilers i don't think, could be Thor: TDW compliant, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amora and Loki's brief flirtations tend to end poorly. This time it's ended poorly for Loki. And he's really, really not happy about what she's making him do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build Walls for Miles Around

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreamingMoonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingMoonlight/gifts).



> Aaaaah I am so severely worried about this fic! Even though I am not supposed to be neurotic about my presents for other people! But this is for [lokizillas](http://lokizillas.tumblr.com) who is basically awesome in all kinds of ways so I'm always a bit nervous about not making something up to snuff. But this was fun to write. (If you were to ask Amora about what she was expecting, I don't think she meant her curse to go quite like this.) 
> 
> But when does anything with Loki go as planned? 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic, my lovely, and a belated happy holidays to you!

Amora, Loki thought vehemently, was a filthy, wretched, amateurish, petty, _bitch_.

This from the floor where he’d collapsed in paroxysms of agony. He could taste blood in his mouth and spat it out, leaving spots of red on his nice, clean tile. Yes, he thought viciously, as worms of pain continued to writhe in his guts, gnawing their way through him. Definitely a bitch.

This was her fault, after all.

Whatever she’d cursed him with after their most recent “alliance” had gone sour, it was proving decidedly difficult to unknot, and everything he’d tried thus far only seemed to make it worse. He reached back, trying to remember what she’d said. _You’re such a deluded mess you’re useless even to me,_ she’d snapped, after he’d shredded her spell meant to steal Thor’s soul. _Let us see how you take to truth, for once!_

It wasn’t simply a truth spell, though. He could still lie perfectly well, he’d tested that, and those were easy enough to break. It was more like – fingers around his throat. Growing progressively tighter even as the pain increased in waves and if it continued to grow worse-

Someone was tapping on his door, Loki realized. He must have screamed at some point. “Is everything all right?” he heard, vaguely, and he gritted his teeth. Ellie, who lived two doors down and was entirely blind, one of the few people he spoke to in this building. “I thought I heard…”

“I’m fine,” Loki ground out, fingernails scraping on the tiles. “I’m f-fffine-”

_Damn her, damn her, damn her-_

“Are you sure? You don’t sound so well…”

Loki squeezed his eyes shut. Something was forcing its way up his throat, like a small animal climbing his esophagus, complete with claws. He swallowed convulsively, again and again, but it kept coming, kept crawling upwards-

“…may I come in?”

Oh _norns._ Loki opened his mouth, pushing himself up to his hands, his chest heaving. Whatever it was tickled the back of his throat so he gagged, violently, and then it was spilling from his lips all in a rush, “ _WhenIwasyoungonceIstoleanecklacefromtheVanirandnearlystartedaninterrealmwar.”_

_What?_ Loki thought blankly, but the pressure was gone, the pain was gone, and though he coughed raggedly, his throat was clear.

“What?” said Ellie, from outside the door.

Loki thought a string of the most vehement curses in the nine realms he could think of, and settled on one pithy Midgardian, “fuck.”

He teleported out.

* * *

He took several deep breaths, standing deep in a relatively empty region of Central Park. Perhaps that was it, he thought, with faint desperation. Perhaps it was just once; he had, as mortals would say, ‘spilled his guts’ and now it was over.

That was a foolishly optimistic thought, however, and based on the feeling that was already beginning to build again, tingling at the back of his head and low in his stomach, a sadly misplaced one. This was not over. Oh no, this had probably barely begun.

And the terms of the curse were, apparently, that he had to – _confess._ To someone. The building and ultimate result of his delay suggested a time limit. How much time did he have before the curse forced him to speak again? It could be anything. How long would the spell last? That could be anything as well.

Did it matter who? Or what he confessed? He supposed it likely had to be true, but need it be _criminal_ or could he say any truth that he knew? About himself, or…

Testing, Loki thought, he needed to test this.

He paced over to a bench on which a ragged looking man was sleeping and stood over him, giving him a jolt of magic. “Wake up,” he snapped. The man jerked awake and scrambled up to sitting, only to stare at him, wide eyed.

“Wait,” he slurred. Drunk? Likely. “You’re-”

“Yes, yes,” Loki said impatiently. He could feel the pain creeping up on him, and had no real desire to go through having his insides ripped apart again. “Let’s see – Thor claims to have shared a bed with three maidens at once. This is true, but he did not fuck any of them, as he was quite drunk at the time. They quite enjoyed themselves with each other, however.”

He waited. Nothing changed, though, except for the man on the bench’s eyes getting bigger. “Whoa,” he said. “Is this…am I hallucinating?”

“No,” Loki snapped. Very well, something about him, then. Innocuous, nothing that could…hm. “I stole two jars of honey from the palace kitchens once and ate them both in my room.” Pause. Nothing. He narrowed his eyes, and added, “and then I blamed the theft on a petty nobleman’s son.” He could still feel the curse growing again. Expanding. Ready to feed on him.

“I think I’m hallucinating,” said the man on the bench, sounding a little clearer, but now very worried. Loki resisted the urge to strangle him on principle and tried to think what else might be the terms. Why Ellie and not this man, why…

Oh.

Oh, that _dirty bitch._

He could feel his face go white with rage, fury surging through him, potent and hot. He knew Ellie. Had a relationship with her, of a sort. He glanced inward, at the curse locked around his insides that he’d already tried to unknot without success, as though it could tell him.

Ah, yes. She had definitely thought this one through. Probably had had it ready for a while.

“Speak of this to anyone and I will rip your bowels out through your mouth,” Loki said, and teleported away again.

* * *

There were…a few…options. He had had a number of conversations with Ellie, on slow days or when the loneliness was acute. (Easier to go to her door than to purchase a cat, and less shedding to deal with.) Other than her, though…

Doom, though the very thought was absurd. Amora herself, and no, seeing as the next time he saw her he was going to rip out her throat. The various Avengers might count – he could certainly track down Barton and keep him trapped for as long as it took – but speaking _any_ kind of secret to the hawk was a very bad idea.

No, there weren’t really options, and Amora, damn her, _damn_ her, had to know it.

There was only one person to whom he could go, with whom his secrets were at least moderately safe.

Loki considered, for a moment, seeing if he could wait this out. Suffer through the pain without coughing up his organs for as long as it took for the curse to dissipate. It couldn’t last more than a day.

The first of the twinges, pain beginning to reach down his spine, decided him. He reached out for the connection, so carefully ignored, and found Thor. Took a deep breath, bracing himself.

Ripping out her throat was too good for Amora. He would have to come up with something truly nasty, just for this.

* * *

Thor reached for Mjolnir rather than trying to hug him when he appeared, his expression shocked. So he was learning, at least. Though as he swung it at Loki’s head, he had to wish that he’d learn a little slower, just this once.

“Dammit, Thor, will you listen?” he snapped. He could feel the curse roiling within him, beginning to intensify. “I am trying to-”

Thor’s expression flickered only for a moment, and then steeled. He did not strike immediately, however. “I will not listen to any more of your lies, brother,” he said. Loki grimaced. Amora was probably laughing her head off, somewhere.

“Very _wise,_ Thor, except that this time I-”

The curse thrashed like a worm in his entrails and he screamed, his knees buckling. For all his fortitude, Thor still caught him before he hit the ground. “What, what is it?” he demanded, urgently, anger quickly forgotten and replaced by worry. “Are you sick, are you…”

“Get off me,” Loki hissed, trying to push at him. This was bad enough without acting like a fainting invalid. “I am cursed, you oaf. One that…unfortunately…requires your presence in order to prevent…pain.”

Thor’s face brightened, but it was tempered by wariness. Loki felt a peculiar ache of combined pride and pain at that. Thor never should have trusted him, of course, but that he no longer did… “A curse,” Thor repeated. “Amora’s work?” Loki nodded, tersely, and Thor had the nerve to look _disappointed._ “Loki…”

“If you are going to _chide_ me I will remove myself and deal with this on my own,” Loki snapped, though he was far from sure he could do any such thing. The pain was building again. Soon he would be spitting blood.

Thor closed his mouth, and examined Loki for a long moment. “What is the nature of the curse?” he asked, finally, and Loki closed his eyes, feeling his nose wrinkle with displeasure.

“Within a timed interval I have not determined yet – I guess perhaps one hour – I must confess some matter to a person with whom I have some…connection. If I do not…” Loki’s body rippled, involuntarily. He would have swayed, if Thor weren’t still holding him upright.

“I see,” Thor said, after a moment. He released Loki, finally, and stepped back. “Well?”

“Well what,” Loki said snappishly. He sank into a chair and gripped the arms.

“Speak, then. I can see you are in pain.”

“You will forgive me if I am in no rush to share all my secrets with _you,_ ” Loki said, not a little spitefully. Thor just looked at him, and Loki let his lip curl. “Why would I wish to give you more reasons to judge me?”

“I doubt that there are very many secrets of yours that I do not already know,” Thor said, and with the growing throbs of pain in his belly answered down his spine Loki did not quite register the particular tone of voice.

“Is that _so?”_ Loki snapped. “So you know then, do you, that the lovely maid Ilyena you tried so hard to woo was none other than your _brother?_ ”

The pain evaporated, dissipating like fog in the sun. Loki saw a flicker of satisfaction on Thor’s face, though it was followed quickly by a mixture of horror and anger. “That was _you?_ ” he said, face going red, and Loki smiled unkindly at him.

“I was just curious, initially, but you made it so very entertaining.” Maybe this needn’t be so bad. “And I will never forget your attempts at poetry.”

Thor sputtered. “Curious about _what?_ ” he demanded. Loki gave him an innocent smile and settled in the chair, already considering his next secret.

* * *

Amora, unfortunately, was cleverer than Loki had given her credit for.

Thor made several attempts to engage him in conversation for the remainder of the hour, which Loki stolidly ignored. When the next began – and it did seem to be an hour’s cycle – he waited until he was distinctly uncomfortable to say, “I cursed Frig with impotence for a month. Apparently he was furious, but he never worked out it was me.” Thor laughed, sudden and startled and genuinely amused in a way that half made Loki want to grin. But nothing happened. The worm of the curse tightened inside him and began to chew holes in his stomach. Loki blinked. He looked quickly to Thor. “Did you know that?”

“No,” Thor said, though he looked amused. “I remember hearing about it, but I did not know…” he seemed, belatedly, to realize the look on Loki’s face. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” Loki said quickly, trying to think. He’d fulfilled the terms. He’d told a secret, and yet apparently it wasn’t good enough. The curse hadn’t changed, still felt just the same, which meant that he was missing something, but what? Thor’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Loki…”

“It’s nothing,” he said more harshly, but he could feel the burn of pain growing, promising soon to bloom into agony. What could he have missed? It was clear enough, nasty enough, just like Amora. One secret an hour, for an unknown amount of time.

Was it his imagination, or did the pain seem to be intensifying more quickly?

Loki’s breath began to come short and sharp. Thor half started to stand as Loki bent double, trying to hold in a groan. “Loki,” Thor said, worriedly.

“Something’s wrong,” Loki said. “It didn’t work.” Maybe another… “Fandral and I were lovers for a time.” Thor jerked, but there was still nothing. Loki licked his lips. He could taste blood welling up on the back of his tongue. “It’s not working-”

He could hear the panic in his own voice and felt hatefully ashamed, but then Thor’s hands were cupping his face and he was more ashamed at how much of a relief it was to have them there. “Maybe – maybe it needs to be – I don’t know, something deeper?” Thor sounded tense, and nervous. Loki could feel time ticking down. It hadn’t yet been forty-five minutes.

“Deeper?” Loki sneered. “What do you-” he had to break off, or scream, as his entrails wove themselves into knots and pulled tight. He swallowed hard, heart beginning to pound, and Thor gave him a little shake.

“Tell me – tell me why you let go.”

Loki sneered, with an effort. “That’s no secret.”

“Then – then tell me what happened to you. When Heimdall could not find you.”

Loki felt himself shudder. “There is nothing to tell.”

“I _know_ that is a lie.” Thor’s voice was angry, now. Loki’s mouth filled with blood and he choked on it, opened his mouth and spat it on Thor’s shirt. Thor looked down and when he looked up his face was full of alarm. “Loki-”

Hate welled up in him like the blood, for Thor, for Amora, for this entire damned rotten _universe_ and all its realms. “I _begged_ for you to come,” he said, voice garbled by the blood still filling his mouth. “In the dark, at the mercy of monsters you cannot imagine, I begged. But I learned quickly how useless that was. The only one I can rely on to save me is myself.”

The coils loosened. The pain left. The curse settled back and when Loki spat again, his mouth stayed clear. Thor’s expression was a mixture of relief and horror and hurt, and he did not look at it. “Get back,” he pushed out, lowly. “I can still hex you like this.”

Thor backed away. Loki curled into himself and nursed black fury and hatred and something else he hesitated to name.

_Maybe it needs to be deeper,_ Thor had suggested. Amora and her elegant cruelty.

How deep would he have to carve, before this was over?

* * *

The next hour, the pain built faster. Loki tried four or five savage, furious secrets , times he had sabotaged Thor or his friends from the shadows, but none of them seemed to satisfy the curse. Ultimately, just as he was beginning to feel the awful crawling sensation deep within of an unchosen secret clawing its way out of him, he blurted out that he had feigned sickness sometimes to keep Frigga’s attention on himself instead of Thor, though his face felt hot even as he said it.

Thor was quiet for a while as Loki subsided, catching his breath, and then said, “I was always sure she loved you best, and I was…envious of it.”

Loki stared at him. “What?”

Thor shrugged. He looked embarrassed, and did not meet Loki’s eyes. “You always seemed to have so much in common. You connected with her so easily, and I…” he trailed off. “I know not.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Loki almost snapped, and almost wanted to add _you had Odin’s love, wasn’t that enough?_ Though a part of him…wondered. Odin had never been warm the way that Frigga was warm, never quick to demonstrate emotion. Thor still did not look up.

“I am not saying…I know that she loved me. I have only…always been envious of your bond with her.”

“What a bond,” Loki said, bitterly. “She lied to me, I lied to her, and in the end-”

“Don’t say that,” Thor said, harshly. “Whatever else happened – I know that mother loved you unchangingly.”

_Perhaps she should not have,_ Loki thought darkly, and fell silent, wishing he had not replied to begin with.

* * *

The hours stretched out long and deadly, Loki unsure how much the curse would make him reveal. The pain built faster every time until he had to reach for the first thing he would’ve wanted to keep hidden and fling it out so at least he got to choose. Only twice had he not managed to reach one quickly enough, and had them dragged out of him as though by force, each time leaving him quivering limply in the chair, gasping and drenched in sweat. Thor stayed at a distance at first, but every time he came close he was slower to move away, until at last he didn’t move away at all.

Loki could feel each confession like a knife paring away small pieces of his skin, leaving him increasingly raw and bare, with less and less to give.

Thor was…Thor was kind. Hatefully kind. Loki caught flickers of emotion on his face; of pain (“I didn’t cut Sif’s hair because I was jealous of her skill; I did it because I was jealous of how much _you_ loved her!”) or anger (“It was I who sabotaged your hunt when you came of age. I wanted you to know what it felt like to _fail_.”) or something else he hesitated to name (“When I let go, I intended to die.”), but no more than flickers.

“I am going to kill Amora,” he forced out, still struggling to breathe after another cycle. How much longer could this last? “Slowly and painfully.”

“Why do you join with her?” Thor asked, brows furrowed, and for once it sounded like a genuine question. Loki closed his eyes and tried to think how to answer that, because he would not say _because of you. Because we are both obsessed with you in such a way that it consumes all else, and neither of us can escape. She allies with me because I am a threat to her, and I ally with her because she is a threat to you._

It was a good thing he had most of an hour before the curse began to work again.

“It seemed expedient,” he said, instead.

Thor frowned, but to Loki’s relief did not press. Just looked at him, gaze thoughtful and somehow…sad. “I am glad that you came to me,” he said, suddenly. “However reluctantly.”

Loki shrugged one shoulder. “Such was Amora’s plan. I had few options.”

“Nonetheless,” Thor insisted. “I am glad.”

Loki was not. Loki was beginning to think he knew how this was going to end, what the curse was pushing him towards. All he had were his masks and his walls and his protective coating of armor, built thick over the years.

And Amora’s curse was taking all of that slowly away. Stripping him bare and leaving him naked to the light of the sun where all he could do was burn.

* * *

He knew, in the end, what it would come to.

Twenty-three hours, twenty-three secrets, peeling a little more away with every one, and at the last…

Amora wanted his heart torn out, and she would make him do the work himself.

He held it back by biting his lip even as it began and his vision started to blur and go white, until his lip split and blood flooded his mouth. Thor leaned forward sharply, then, asked him what he needed to say. _Everything,_ Loki thought. _You may have everything, Thunderer, but not this. Not_ me.

And oh, how Loki held onto that. With desperation.

It was all he had left.

“Loki,” Thor said, was saying, somewhere in a haze of pain tangled with anger tangled with despair, because this wasn’t a fight he could win. She was going to force it out of him as she had forced every other truth, as he had revealed so many small things trying to avoid this one secret at his core. “Loki, _please._ Just-”

He howled, half to give rein to his entrails trying to crawl out of his skin and half to drown out Thor’s voice, because he sounded so _frightened,_ so _desperate,_ his arms tight around Loki as he struggled and writhed, gasping for air.

“I hate you,” he gasped, because that was safe to say, and it was _true_ it wasn’t a lie and he needed _that_ to be what Thor remembered when he lost. “I hate you, I _hate-_ ” His voice broke. Everything broke.

He was shattering in the midst of the curse. He could feel it starting to grow into a hard knot in his stomach that would find its way out even if it had to tear him apart from inside to do so, and what if it did so, what if- Loki locked his jaw and wished he could find his magic, end this now, _Amora, damn you, damn you I will have mercy if only you will let me go before this ends-_

“Loki,” Thor was saying, voice tight and almost frantic. “Loki, brother. Look at me, _look_ at me.” His eyes rolled wildly, and he shut them tight, gasping for air that didn’t seem to reach his lungs.

“No,” Loki forced out. “No, I will not, get _out-_ ”

“If I leave I fear you will die,” Thor said. “Loki, whatever it is, it cannot be such a dreadful thing. Say it, say it and let this all be over-”

_For you it will be over. But for me?_

“I – f-fucked your mother,” Loki said. Thor reared back and Loki laughed, harsh and braying in a spray of dark blood from somewhere deep inside, but a moment later Thor was cupping his face again.

“Stop this,” Thor said, voice firmer, more command than plea. “Stop this now, Loki. _Tell me._ ”

_No. No no no._

Loki could feel it. Crawling up in his chest, like that first time, but so much worse, so much larger, like a bear trying to claw its way up his throat. His body heaved with the reflexive urge to vomit, but nothing came up, his throat blocked. He could hardly breathe, could only draw in a thin whistle of air.

_Do you want to die like this?_

He fought it, fought it desperately, half trying to reach for magic well beyond his reach.

“ _Loki!_ ” Thor roared at him, loud enough to shiver through his bones, and Loki breathed in just enough air to speak.

“I hate you,” Loki said, “I hate you, I hate you,” and he was _choking_ on it, choking on everything, he was going to die, going to burst open but he would not say it, would _not-_

“Loki, _please,_ ” Thor said, and he made a hollow, awful sound.

“Thor,” he said, every word forced from him, and he couldn’t hold it back, it was spilling from every pore, tearing him apart. “—you are everything,” he said. “You are everything, and without you I am nothing, and I don’t know how – I don’t know how to _be_ when you are not there, and I – _hate_ you but never as much or as desperately as I-” _Oh Norns, let me die, let me die rather than say it._

Gasping, helpless, body screaming with pain, he hardly heard the last two words as he faded into the dark.

* * *

He wasn’t dead.

That was his first realization, followed shortly by the fact that he wasn’t in pain, either.

Followed shortly by the remembrance that he hadn’t fought hard enough, in the end, not to give in.

Loki opened his eyes, slowly, his heart full of something black and awful, and found that he was lying tucked neatly under covers in a vast, soft bed, wearing loose fitting clothes that were most certainly not his. For a half a moment, he thought it might have been Amora, here to laugh at him and gloat in her victory. Or perhaps to offer a hand, to pretend to be a _friend_ in his hour of need, never mind that his hour of need had been her doing.

Then he registered Thor sitting bent over in a chair not far away, watching him with an expression that was horrifyingly difficult to read. And yet he felt his heart sink anyway.

“Thor,” he said. His voice was an awful rasp. Ugly and raw, much as he himself felt. “What a _pleasant_ surprise.” In that voice, he could hardly summon the appropriate amount of venom. _Weakling._

“I have taken you to a mortal inn,” Thor said, after a moment. “So that you may recover here. In safety.”

Safety. As though he were safe here. Or anywhere. Especially in a room with Thor. Loki shoved himself up to his elbows. “How very kind of you.” He kept his voice flat, though the effect was spoiled by the ruins of his throat that made it crack mid-sentence. Thor’s expression twitched, and he stood, retreating into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a glass of water, which he held back. Loki hesitated, but took it, and drank it all in three swallows before setting it aside.

“Loki,” Thor began, and then stopped. He sighed.

“You may go,” Loki said, attempting an imperious tone. “I need you here no longer. The curse is gone.”

“That much is obvious,” Thor said, slightly tart. Loki felt his lips thin and glanced aside.

“So go.”

Thor crossed his arms. “I will not. We need to speak, Loki.”

Dread squirmed in his stomach. Loki felt his shoulders tense and tried to raise his chin, but it was difficult to feel very imposing at all barely more than flat on his back. “Of what?”

“You nearly killed yourself,” Thor said, his voice a low rumble. “Attempting to – refuse the curse. To keep from telling me…”

Loki felt his jaw tighten and his stomach turn. “Did I? I didn’t realize.”

“Loki,” Thor said, but there was something strange to his voice. Not anger, or…not precisely. More chiding. Exasperated, perhaps. He couldn’t pin it down and it made him uneasy.

“What do you want, Thor,” Loki snapped. _You have everything now,_ he did not say.

“You told me…many things. I know you did not wish to, but I still…there is so much of you I did not know.” Thor sounded troubled, now, and Loki let his lip curl.

“You have only ever seen what you wished to see,” he said spitefully, but to his surprise, Thor nodded slowly.

“Perhaps…perhaps that is so. At least in part. If not fully.”

Loki felt his skin prickle strangely and could not be certain why. “If you wish me to tell you more, Thor, you will be disappointed.” He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Without the compulsion, even if I had more secrets to give you, I would not offer them.”

“I do not doubt that.” Thor’s voice was strange, his gaze distant, thoughtful, but a moment later his eyes fixed on Loki once more. “You said you loved me, brother. What did you mean by that?”

Loki’s stomach twisted. “What does one usually mean by it?” he asked, gaze sliding away from Thor’s, toward the wall. He supposed he ought to be relieved. That Thor had heard only…that was bad enough, but better, perhaps, than it might be.

“Love can take many forms.”

Loki swallowed. He felt strange, trapped and angry and desperate all at once. “Such words of wisdom,” he said, spitefully, but Thor went on regarding him calmly. “What do you think I meant by it, Thor?”

“I do not claim to know.” Thor took a step nearer. “Will you tell me?”

_End this,_ the whisper in his blood. _Eventually, it will come. Make it on your own terms._

“What do you wish to hear?” The words spilled easily from his lips, now, hateful and vicious. “That I _desire_ you? That my _lust_ is that of the flesh and the carnal, that I would have you as lover and brother both, that every _perverse_ rumor of my _unholy lusts_ is-”

Thor’s lips sealed his mouth and cut off his words, his hand at the back of Loki’s neck warm and gentle and familiar but the warm softness of his lips an entirely new feeling. Loki could feel himself melting into it, though, surrendering. He jerked as Thor nipped his lower lip, his eyes opening sharply.

_Stop this,_ his mind screamed. _Stop this now,_ but his heart and body were in agreement against it, and he was weak.

Thor drew back slowly, and Loki blinked dazedly up at him.

“Oh, Loki,” Thor said, with a slow, soft smile. “I told you, did I not? There are no secrets you need to hide from me.”

Panic surged in Loki, suddenly, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. “Thor,” he managed, after a moment, not sure what he meant to say, but then Thor’s hand was on his shoulder, warm and heavy, pushing him back into the pillows.

“Rest,” Thor said. “I will be here. We can talk when you are well.”

Loki swallowed. “Talk,” he said, warily.

A slight glint snuck into Thor’s eye. “If you do not run off,” he said, “Perhaps other things as well.”

Loki felt a slight shiver run down his spine, and hoped it wasn’t visible. “We shall see,” he said, hoping it sounded sincere. He would not make this too easy.

He felt…light, Loki realized, as his eyes began to float closed. Strange.

Amora, he remembered, and almost opened his eyes again, but did not. She could…he would deal with her. Eventually. And maybe he wouldn’t kill her for this after all.

Maybe just a little bit. Temporarily. On principle.

Thor’s fingers ran through his hair, and Loki turned his head and smiled, just a little, where no one could see.


End file.
